


Visit

by undertheteacup



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undertheteacup/pseuds/undertheteacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Mass Effect 3, post Priority: Citadel II. Ashley may be back on the Normandy, but she and Shepard still have a lot of emotional baggage to unpack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visit

**Author's Note:**

> First fic ever posted on here! Woooo!

Shepard’s at her desk studying some intel about Cerberus late into the night when her door chime goes off. She opens it to find Ashley standing on the other side.

“Shepard. I… You know what never mind, sorry to have bothered you.” Ashley starts to turn back to the elevator but before she can take a step Shepard reaches out and touches her hand, briefly.

“Ash, it’s okay. Really. Come on in,” Shepard says, standing aside and gesturing toward the room.

Ashley walks in slowly, holding the back of her hand where Shep touched it like it burns or pains her. Rationally Shepard is aware it’s been weeks since Ashley healed from her robot-induced injuries, but looking at her Shep sees her exactly as she looked those first few times at Huerta Memorial: bruised, aching, weighed upon by some invisible burden.

They each take a side of the couch. Ashley’s shoulders are bunched. She looks away toward the blue glow of the fish tank and seems to hide behind her fall of black hair. Shep wonders if that’s subconsciously part of the reason for her new hairstyle – that and the unspoken expectation of femininity attendant upon women moving up in Alliance ranks.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Ash. I’ve been thinking about you.” Shepard says, then pauses. “You’ve been so quiet. All alone out there on the observation deck.”

“Well… what could I possibly say, after what I’ve done?” Ashley says.  
Shepard wisely treats the question as rhetorical and just watches, listens.

“I just— I’m not even sure if I belong here. This isn’t my Normandy, this is Cerberus’s ship. I know, I know– ” she hastens to say before Shepard can interrupt, “it’s not theirs anymore, it’s yours now and you’re using it to hunt them down. I trust you on that.”

She stands up to pace Shep’s cabin, examining different parts of it, picking items up and setting them down.

“But the old Normandy was my home, you know? Even hunting down Saren and fighting the geth and all.. I still felt safe there. With you.”

“And then that Normandy was destroyed, and I died,” says Shepard. “And then I came back. And Horizon happened.”

Ashley leans her forehead against a bulkhead and nods, clearly holding back tears.

“Horizon, the Collectors, the Reapers attacking Earth, Huerta Memorial, my family, spectrehood, Udina… I wish I could take it all back,” Ashley says.

“Take what back?”

“Everything I said. My decisions. Maybe it’s me I don’t trust,” Ashley says.

She collapses onto the couch again with a loud sigh. Leans her head onto the leather backrest, eyes closed.

“Do you know what they say about me on the ship?” she says. “They say what with Eden Prime, the colonists on Horizon, me protecting Udina while he betrayed the council – that it’s like I’m cursed. They joke that pointing a gun into your commanding officer’s face is a hell of a way to get reinstated onto an Alliance vessel.”

Her tone is wryly amused, but Shepard knows it’s the laugh-to-keep-from-crying kind of mirth. Tinged with despair. She stands up and crosses to Ash’s side ready to speak, to comfort, to tear apart all the bullshit Ashley’s heard and internalized about how it’s all her fault, how she’s broken, should have done better, been better. Shep fully intends to rip that toxic crapload a new asshole and dropkick it right into space.

The colorfully violent metaphors grind to a halt though, as soon as she gets a good look at Ash’s face turned up to the ceiling, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights. Shepard completely forgets herself, forgets everything but this, the beauty of Ashley’s features as so many feelings – rage, pain, loneliness, grief – take shape there and then transform, like clouds shifting over a stormy sky.

Maybe Ashley notices it had been a while since anyone spoke; she comes out of her internal reverie to the sight of Shepard standing there looking at her with a tenderness so fierce it could kill a man.

The darkness of Shep’s eyes feels like it goes on forever; Ashley gazes into them and lets that darkness hold her, envelop her in its warmth. The tears finally come and fall, quietly, and she breathes through it: lets her face screw up, her chin tremble, her nose run, her chest heave and breath come in gasps. She knows that Shepard is looking at her not with pity or scorn or awkwardness, but awe and reverence.

When she’s finally done it feels like a great burden’s been lifted from her shoulders. She goes to wipe her snot with the back of her hand and Shepard’s already there with a tissue magicked from who knows where.  
She cleans herself up. Shepard sits next to her, solid and reassuring, practically radiating attention and protectiveness but clearly trying to give her space as well. It makes Ashley break into a genuine smile – a somewhat unfamiliar experience, like working muscles too long unused, but it feels good. She reaches for Shepard’s hand and holds it, squeezing ever so slightly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to be able to do something like this,” says Shepard after a while of them sitting side by side.

“Oh yeah? Could it be since that first time you came to visit me in the hospital?”

“Wait, so you knew?”

“I had a feeling,” says Ashley. She grins sheepishly, eyes in her lap. “Plus, I may have heard about how a certain famous commander emptied out the Sirta Foundation’s entire stock of poetry books. And candy. And flowers. The nurses were gossiping about it for days.” She looks at Shepard more seriously now. “You only ever gave me the Tennyson though. And.. you never said anything.”

“I know. I chickened out. And then when you woke up you were so stoic. All business and decorum. And you had the prospect of becoming a Spectre, and family stuff to think about..” Shepard trails off.

“Yeah,” Ashley says with a long sigh, sinking back into the leather.

In an effort to lighten the mood, Shepard turns to her with a mischievous grin. “Bet you don’t know what I was wanting to do when we first saw each other on Earth after the attack, though.”

Ashley narrows her eyes. “No, what?”

“Basically, well.. I wanted to fuck your brains out,” admits Shepard. “Something about fighting alongside each other, seeing your confidence with that sniper rifle again… but it was hearing your voice in the com that really did it. Just like in the old days,” she says.

“Even when I was questioning your decisions and criticizing your relationship to Cerberus?” Ashley jokes.

“Especially then,” says Shepard.

They look at each other, amusement – and perhaps a spark of something else – dancing in their eyes. As the pause lengthens Ashley wonders if they’re going to kiss, but then the moment passes. Shepard leans forward and presses her lips to Ashley’s forehead instead; breathes in the sweet scent of coconut oil and an underlying earthiness she can’t identify but thinks of as just… Ashley. They rest like that for a moment, leaning against each other. It should feel childish, ridiculous, but it doesn’t. Ashley just feels protected and treasured.

“I think it’d be good for both of us to get some rest,” Shepard says.

She walks Ashley to the door. Before they part, Ash turns to her with a warm smile.

“See you later, Shepard. Sweet dreams. And.. thanks.”


End file.
